(…long interlude while I learn Dvorak…)
It’s an easy habit to filter out the small things I don’t understand.
Maybe, in some ways, it’s an intelligent habit. My brain must organize absurd amounts of information into a schema for sane functioning. So it simplifies, cutting out the question marks.
Moreover, ignorance is embarrassing. I don’t want to be aware of my ignorance. I default to filtering out the question marks so that I’m not confronted by the limits of my knowledge. Then I don’t risk feeling naive or foolish.
And on top of that, add on my various fears—the fear of having a concept I hold challenged, the fear of discovering I’m wrong about something—and you can see how it took me most of my life to understand that the world is mine to explore.
. . .
Years ago at a music festival a fellow composition student asked me if I could show him the harp. He asked if he could try it himself. Sure, I said, why not?
He sat down at the instrument and began touching, tapping, brushing, and knocking every available surface of the harp. Intending to go on the harp where no man had gone before, apparently. And listening carefully to every resultant sound. (This remains my favorite memory of introducing someone to the harp.)
As I watched him, I thought (and I realize this sounds like the sort of problematic thing Camille Paglia would probably enjoy putting into print) how quintessentially boyish his behavior was: assuming the harp was his space to explore, going straight ahead to see for himself. Girls are (or at least I was) taught to ask first, to assume we need to be taught instructions before trying, to think we probably won’t be able to do it ourselves—in a word, to be timid.
And in that moment I decided I’d like to cultivate his attitude. What would happen if I approached the unknown not with caution but with boldness and curiosity?
. . .
As usual, the first step towards changing was noticing.
First I had to notice that I was ignoring.
It takes effort to notice a missed reference if it’s not pivotal to understanding what’s going on. But gradually, through exercising intentionality, through reminding myself to pay attention, I broke my habit of ignoring my ignorance.
That done, I then was able to notice what I’d been ignoring.
Now I notice the things, especially the little things, that I don’t understand and then look them up. I treat printed materials, speech, or anything I might encounter in physical space like it’s hyperlinked. And then I double-click.
I’ve broken the habit of unconsciously ignoring references I don’t understand. And every time I choose to notice the gaps, I have an opportunity to fill them. When I do, I enrich my understanding of the world.
Here’s a fun small sample of things I recently saw referenced that I didn’t know about that I now know about, along with the source where I encountered it—
Sketches of Spain (Onion article)
Apollo citharoedus (Orchestration by Cecil Forsyth)
The Mysterious Production of Eggs (season brochure for MN orch)
This is how I discover new material to dump onto my compost heap.
And how I end up with 100+ tabs open on my phone’s web browser 😬🤗